


QuakeRider 70 - Gingerbread

by tisfan



Series: Stocking Stuffers [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking, Charity Auctions, F/M, First Meetings, Holidays, Meet-Cute, gingerbread
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 08:39:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12884151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Mack and Yo-Yo take Daisy to a charity auction where she runs into the handsome owner of King's Bakery...





	QuakeRider 70 - Gingerbread

“Seriously, Mack, what are we doing here?” Daisy stepped around a handful of children, all of whom seemed to be working off a major sugar high and a certain blindness to anything going on above their heads. She rubbed absently at her fingers; even with the braces that kept her quake power from shattering her bones, her hands always ached these days.

“Givin’ back,” Mack said. He had one arm around Yo-Yo’s shoulders.

“I thought I already did that, by being a superhero and all that,” Daisy muttered. She didn’t really like being in large crowds of normals. There were always those who recognized her as the face of SHIELD’s Inhuman agents, and ones who recognized her from her time before that. _Dangerous_ , those looks seemed to say. _Get out. You don’t belong here._

“Yeah, well, that is big stuff,” Yo-Yo said. She whizzed away, and then snapped back, too fast to be seen, and only because Daisy was completely in tune with vibrations all around her did she even know Yo-Yo had been gone at all. “Here.” She handed Daisy a gingerbread man, about the size of her hand, with raisin eyes and a big wide pink O for a mouth. “They are free samples, eat it!”

“This is not a sample size,” Daisy said, scowling, but the gingerbread was warm, fresh from the oven, and smelled delicious, and soon she was licking her fingers and trying to shake the crumbs out from her brace.

“King’s Bakery always has th’ best samples,” Yo-Yo said. “And I’m not just saying that because he’s cute.”

“You better not be,” Mack said.

They pushed into the main auditorium and the smells were just incredible. Chocolate, gingerbread, pie, coffee, meringue. Cinnamon and orange and pumpkin. Daisy followed her nose to the first strong scent. The booth was manned by a woman handing out little cups of hot chocolate with marshmallow toppers that foamed and floated. The toppers were being sold, and behind her was a basket offering, multiple flavors of hot chocolate mixes, toppers, custom stirring spoons. _Starting Bid: $50_

“What is this?”

“Charity Auction,” Mack told her. “For Big Brothers, Big Sisters. The money goes to running programs all year for kids with no parents, or parents that work too much to do enrichment activities. Kids with parents in jail. That kinda thing.”

Daisy looked mournfully down at her empty hand. “Where’d that sample come from?”

Yo-Yo lead her around to a gingerbread bakery stall. Piles and piles of gingerbread men were in a basket to one side, labeled _Sinners, please eat._

“What’s with the troublemaker gingerbread men?” Daisy asked.

The cook turned around, a gorgeous man with one brown eye and one a disconcerting shade of amber. “They’re not perfect,” he said. “So, we don’t sell ‘em. Robbie Reyes, owner/operator. Welcome to my stall.”

The perfect ones were in little plastic sleeves, clothespinned to strings like washing hung out. They were elaborately decorated. Gorgeous, really. Selling for five dollars each.

“Nothing’s perfect,” Daisy said, her tone sly.

“Well,” Robbie said, winking at her, “you are.”

Behind him was an elaborate gingerbread building; not a house or a castle, but what appeared to be a mechanic’s shop, complete with gingerbread cars, a gingerbread lift, with a little gingerbread mechanic underneath it, changing a little gingerbread tire. _Starting bid: $200_

“If I win that,” Daisy asked, pointing at the display, “how do I get it home?”

“I’ll hand-deliver it to you,” Robbie said. God, he was hot. With a winning, wicked smile.

“How do I bid?”

“Tell me what you think it’s worth, an’ I’ll put your name down,” Robbie said. “If someone else thinks it’s worth more, then it’ll go up to the auction. If not, you win. Auction’s at four.”

Daisy nodded. “All right. Put me down for… three hundred dollars. It’s… uh, Daisy. Daisy Johnson.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Robbie said.


End file.
